Day 11: This Time Around

This time around,

the poems don’t come easy.

They lurk in the shadows,

silent, stealthy, waiting

for the stillness

I cannot seem to give them.

There is no calm,

no harmonic frequency

to tune to –

this time around,

it’s mostly static noise

that scares the words away.

Where is that meditative peace,

that zone, that flow

that midwifes poetry

onto the page?

This time around,

I’m on my own,

and the poems don’t come easy.